


The Boy that Bled Blue

by ambivalentlangst



Series: The Legendary Event [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alfor is a lawyer, Allura is a babe and also an artist, Allura is too good for this world tbh, Allura's POV, Allura's mom was an artist too, Gen, Happy ending!!!, Lance is a painting, Langst, The Legendary Event, tw non graphic mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12846369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivalentlangst/pseuds/ambivalentlangst
Summary: Allura had seen all of her mother's works, knew them like she knew her own heart. Still, it was always her Blue Boy collection that made her cry every time she saw it.





	The Boy that Bled Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Made for day 2 of the Legendary Event: artistry, featuring painting!Lance and Allura who draws inspiration from him.

Allura had once had a mother. She was beautiful and loving, despite the fact that all Allura easily remembered of her was her paintings. She could remember the affection she felt for her, and that she continued to feel to her work that outlasted her. In particular, her Blue Boy collection. It wasn’t that it had done particularly well. Of course all of her work was critically acclaimed, masterpieces in their own right and people paid millions just for single piece. She was told, time and time again, that all of her works were so beautiful due to the meaning hidden within them. Nobody understood like Allura did that the baring of her soul was most evident in that series. The way the boy, Lance, she called him, smiled but his eyes never quite shone in the same way. He was pictured among friends, each unique in their own right, but his skin was grey and pale. They laughed and were kind, but Lance was sensitive and hurt constantly blossomed in his heart, bleeding shades of indigo that looked as violent and painful as a crimson would.

Allura had cried when she’d seen the collection for the first time as a child, inconsolable as her father led her out of the room. He was a lawyer, who though often had much of his time taken up by work, loved Allura with all his heart. She sobbed on his shoulder, wailing as tears slipped down her chubby brown cheeks. She wanted Lance to be happy, and didn’t understand why her mother made him so very sad. His friends loved him, he was perfect and adored by all those he met. That was why her mother had, privately at least, chosen such a name for him. It meant god-like, but also servant. A slave to his own emotions despite the way he shone, and as such even the love of others was not enough without someone to speak with. He drowned in his own silence, unable to speak out. 

Allura was not shown the final, ending piece of that collection until she was older.

On the surface, it was a brilliant piece showing the way mental illness tore someone up from the inside out. Allura did not suspect, and then firmly believe that it was her mother’s call for help until she was older too. Her mother made it three more years on fake smiles and pieces that Allura would always believe were empty, only made to deceive a malleable audience into believing that there was meaning. Then, her mother was found curled up on the couch, into a tight ball she was suspected to have crawled into when the pain became overwhelming, with an empty bottle of pills left behind on the table in front of her.

Allura did not remember much of her mother at all, only what had been told to her.

She grew up in what could’ve been a haunted household, for all the interaction she was provided. Her father was a good man and did not abandon her, but she was a painful reminder of her mother and as such he did his best to avoid her. He consumed himself with work. He did not brush her off, did not send her away with balled fists or scathing words, but Allura was not an idiot and could see where she was not wanted. So, she slunk away and disappeared. She would not bother her father again until she had something worthy of his notice.

Over the years, Allura studied many things. Art, graphic design, web design. She had an inkling of what she wanted to be, but wasn’t sure of the way to execute it. She wanted to make a difference, but it was not until she went to the art museum that held the Blue Boy collection that everything fit together with sudden clarity.

She didn’t want anybody to have to cry over stories like Lance’s or her mother’s, ever again. The first step was a new collection from a famous artist’s daughter, the girl critics had been waiting on for years to produce something just as spectacular as her mother had before her. Allura did not disappoint.

She went back to Lance, and painted a new story for him. Her mother had never been able to see beyond what she knew in her heart was her future, but Allura knew there could be more for those like him. She gave Lance the help he needed, until the ache hidden within him healed, slowly but surely. It only took a little notice, a little push to speak up. A little person who could grow to care enough to make a difference.

With the spotlight of the world on her after her first steps into art, Allura made her next move, and announced the Lance Foundation. An organization meant to spread awareness, and encourage kids to speak up. To get the help they needed, and make it easy for them to do so. Allura wanted to help, and all it took was a boy that bled blue who inspired her to do so.


End file.
